


A Sweet Exchange

by Shachaai



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Christmas nonsense, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shachaai/pseuds/Shachaai
Summary: Cigarettes and candy canes are not an equal exchange.





	A Sweet Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from my tumblr.

The Netherlands is less than pleased when a gloved hand appears in front of his face whilst he’s trying to have a smoke in a break at the meeting, and even _less_ less pleased when said hand darts in and snatches the cigarette from his mouth before the Dutch Nation can grab it.

The Netherlands tries to snarl “I hope that _burns_ you -” but before _burns_ can get out the hand has returned and _shoved_ the end of something between his parted lips in a crinkle of cheap plastic.

This time, the Netherlands manages to grab the wrist attached to the thieving hand that is plaguing him, turning his dark glare down its arm to Romania, who smiles back at him guilelessly and continues smoking the Netherlands’ stolen cigarette with his other hand.

“You should be thanking me,” he says, and has the temerity to grin crookedly, one of his sharp teeth hanging over his lower lip like an invitation to bite him. “I’m helping you quit a bad habit.”

The Netherlands tightens his grip around Romania’s wrist, pressing his thumb hard to the pulse and bone under Romania’s glove. He has the familiar taste of peppermint on his tongue, artificial sweetness overlaying the taste of tobacco none too pleasantly as it settles in, for Romania has shoved a _candy cane_ in his mouth in replacement of the cigarette, the familiar curved pole twisted out of sugar in white and red and green.

…And it has been pre-sucked by the feel of it, its end already smoothed by someone else’s tongue.

Lovely.

The peppermint is strong enough that it burns cold, colder when Netherlands drops Romania’s hand and removes the cane from his mouth, breathing the chill winter air into his lungs as he eyes the other Nation beside him disapprovingly. “By making me fund yours?”

Romania has the decency to stand downwind, at least, when he blows out smoke, slouching back comfortably against the brick wall behind them. Nothing dims his grin. “You don’t think it’s an even trade? Both our vices are pre-loved.”

“When did _you_ last pay for cigarettes?”

“I prefer to think that what pleasure I do not give in money, I give in time.” Romania nods at the candy cane still in the Netherlands’ hand. “That’ll last you at least three times as long as the cig, and it’ll only be that short if you crunch it. Like a _heathen._ ”

“Since I’ve apparently _paid_ for this, you don’t get to criticise how I eat it.” The Netherlands swipes his tongue over his lips, trying to remove the stickiness of the cheap sugar clinging them, drying and cracking his lips in the wind.

He doesn’t fail to notice the way Romania’s eyes focus on him as he does so.

He lifts the candy cane up again. Considers it, noisy plastic wrapping and all. “Think I can get away with eating this during the meeting?”

Romania’s grin grows wider behind the smoke drifting from between his own lips, satisfied as a cat in a sunbeam. “I’d like to see someone try and tell you not to.”


End file.
